


Kelesis

by vejita



Category: Deep Sea Prisoner - Fandom, funamusea, 廃れ夢 | Obsolete Dream, 海底囚人 | Deep-Sea Prisoner, 灰色庭園 | Haiiro Teien | The Gray Garden
Genre: Angst, Cigarettes, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, References to Depression, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27895312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vejita/pseuds/vejita
Summary: Greatness and happiness are ephemeral when put in comparison with the ruthlessness reality holds. Many chose to live in an eternal lie, one the brings bliss in exchange for wit, many others are forced to become aware of this ruthlessness; however, this knowledge doesn't bring happiness, and Satanick is going to experience it on his own skin.
Relationships: Victor Flankenstein/Satanick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Kelesis

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I write for this fandom, so I'm must admit I'm quite nervous. Hope you will enjoy what I wrote!

Another cloud of smoke rised into the air, gracefully, with a mesmerising and harmonious motion, merging together with the already thick haze formed in the room. There was a terrible smell, one that smelled like desperation and degradation.  
It clung on the clothes, on the furnishings, on the deepest emotions, which in particular were torn forcefully at every puff of cigarette, forced to float on the air, exposed, for all to see.

Not that there was someone else in that shoddy room: inside there were only Satanick and his crippling loneliness, that was eating him alive at every breath he took, at every blink of an eye, at every beat of his heart. He couldn't remember how many days it has been since he locked himself in that dark and anguishing room: it was like all of his memories were obfuscated, as if there was something blocking him from remembering his past days. He felt like he was floating in a never ending dream, slowly drifting away, in his own Neverland, where death doesn't exist. 

Maybe in an effort to lighten the gloomy atmosphere of the room, or maybe to cover the noises that his thoughts made, a melody was being played by a turntable over and over again. The crackling sound of the vinyl was almost comforting; in a certain sense it was the beacon that kept the devil still attached to reality.  
He felt an overwhelming heaviness in his chest, that seemed to bring him down to a deep sea of despair, without the possibility to come to the surface. 

Mixed with the sound of the music, there was his heavy and deep breathing, that shook and rocked his whole being at every exhale. Despite the strong sensation of someone suffocating him, Satanick kept on smoking, indulging in the brief relief every puff bought to him. 

"You are so pathetic", suddenly a voice said. It sounded like a far away sigh, almost imperceptible. It was so soft that it blend naturally with all the small noises of the room, getting lost in the air like a simple echo. 

Sure to be hallucinating, Satanick didn't reply: he just kept on staring at an imprecise spot of the room, lost in his thoughts. He has been staring at that spot for so much time, that his eyes were starting to play tricks on him, making him see a bunch of weird green lines and black dots all merely dancing together in front of his eyes, creating colourful trails mixed with the greyish of the fume.

"You are better than this", the voice said again in an attempt to draw attention on itself. It had an indeterminable tone but there could still be discerned a certain amount of urgency hidden in it. 

However, at that the devil only replied with a slow movement of his arm, one that an outsider would have called cumbersome, like the one of an emotionless machine created only to make the same action over and over again to fulfill the ephemeral objective of its fleeting life, just to bring yet again the cigarette to his lips. He took a deep puff of cigarette and closed his eyes, letting his lungs be completely filled with that poisonous godly nectar. He could feel his chest burning, like there was an active volcano erupting inside of him, turning everything it met on his path into ashes. It left behind an oppressive sensation, one that made him feel so terrible that it was quite pleasant and satisfying. His usually vibrant purple eyes had the same colour of a withered iris, while his face was so much pale and grooved that it put the Moon to shame; on the whole it gave off a grotesque aura, similar to the scenes of a gothic novel. 

"Am I really?"; 

Suddenly the voice of a very tired Satanick echoed in the room, lonely as the person to whom it belonged to, followed immediately after by a sonorous and bitter laugh, sardonic towards the words said by that ghostly voice. His brain was pounding against his skull, so painfully that he felt the need to hit his head against something and pass out. Satanick felt so vulnerable that it was almost suffocating; and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop laughing. Some hiccups mixed alternatively at the laughter, like a melody of a peculiar music score, in an unstoppable crescendo that had its maximum point in an explosion of intense emotions topped off by an hysterical whipping, so desperate that it would have put to shame any professional mourners. 

That's when the emptiness Satanick was feeling inside of him left space for an overwhelming sadness. Many of his never-ending tears fell from his face onto his hands, like a small fount finding a new outlet in a lonely and deserted mountain. Some of them fell onto the cigarette, mixing with its ashes and suppressing the fire of its lighten up part.  
Noticing how his tears were falling down, Satanick bit his lips and just stared at his own wet hands and clothes. He swallowed his hiccups, and even his mirthless and hysterical laugh died in his throat.

Silence fell again in the room, one that could be considered even heavier than before; not even the still going on melody could liften up the atmosphere.  
With a tired look on his face, Satanick fiinally turned to look at his side, as if suddenly remembering about the reality around him. He was already expecting to see the sad furnishings all around the room, looking as miserable as the man observing them.  
However, something caught his eyes: in a dark corner, in the middle of the big cloud of smoke formed on mid-air and the many packs of cigarettes on the ground, a figure stood motionless. The first reaction that Satanick had was one of pure horror, sure that it was Fumus ready to play a bit more with his emotions and instability. Frightened and horrified, he jumped on his feet, letting the already extinguished cigarette fell on the dark and dirty floor.  
He could feel a pair of eyes staring deeply at his soul, analysing every little detail and stripping him down from his deepest thoughts: it made him feel like a prey being looked at by an hungry predator.  
All of his muscles were as tense as a block of steel and his eyes were already scanning his surroundings to find a way to play it cool and avoid being tortured: if Fumus had his way with him at that moment, even the last string of sanity he had left would have been broken definitely. He tried to look strong and cocky, so to throw the other man off.  
However, he soon realized something: the voice he heard before was completely different from the one of his brother and God, which he knew too well. So Satanick squinted his eyes and stared at the figure pondering on who it could be. It was hard to see because of all the darkness so he took quite some time, too much, to realize who it was: 

"Victor", he muttered shocked, his voice a shaky breath. He felt like someone had wrapped an hand around his neck, making it difficult even to breath.  
Satanick froze on the spot, sure to be hallucinating from all the cigarettes he had smoked in the past few days. 

Victor Flankenstein;  
The one whom Satanick loved so dearly;  
The one whom faded away without leaving any traces apart from a deep emptiness;  
The one whose death made Satanick feel so miserable;  
The one whom was loved by the Pitch Black World's devil. 

Feeling his head spinning and his chest burning, Satanick realized that he had stopped breathing. He could feel a tingling sensation all over his body, making it hard to walk. However, as if pushed by an external force, he managed to get closer to the figure in front of him, with uncertain and uncoordinated movements.

《Was he dreaming?》, he wondered.  
《Did all of his suffering finally found rest in the arms of death, embodied in that moment as the one he loved so dearly?》: these were the questions eating him inside at every step he took.

Victor didn't say anything: he just kept on staring at the devil with dull eyes, emotionless and unreadable like the dark Universe, calm and comforting like an Ocean.  
Satanick missed those eyes too much.

The silence between them was so intense and sharp, that it could have cut their tongues in half if they dared to talk. And yet, Satanick didn't care about this detail. 

"Did you come for a drink?", he tried to joke, faking a smile on his disrupted face, too coward to let his true self be seen. He forced himself to soften his gaze, bringing his eyebrows up and smiling cheekily in the most natural way possible, both to hide the sadness and the surprise he was feeling. Truth was that his heart was beating painfully, throbbing and aching in his chest. He felt a terrible sensation oppressing and squeezing his chest, causing him so much pain that sweats was forming on his forehead. 

As much as Satanick was talking, restless and tense, Victor still didn't say anything: he looked like a statue, motionless and eternal, made of pure marble, with the sole purpose of being admired. There was a faint light surrounding him, that gave him a godly aura, completely in contrast with the deep darkness of the room. 

The atmosphere was so heavy and the silence so persistent, that Satanick felt numb and devoid of energy. He could feel the rumbling sound of his own heart beating on his ears, too deafening, too thunderous.  
His fingers were twitching, while a sensation of stiffness on his neck, from the many hours spent sitting on the same chair, was making it hard to stand up without wobbling on his own feet.  
His thoughts became louder and louder, so much that the smile he had on his face turned into a grimace of pain, one that screamed the ever-growing sorrow he was feeling.  
A small laugh, almost a chuckle, desperate and unhappy, left his lips.

"Am I finally going crazy? Look at me: a pathetic victim of an illusion, stuck in a past that is not my reality anymore, at the mercy of feelings that will never be reciprocated. Crying and smoking my sadness away, I fall in a vortex without exit, where the memory once so much comforting is now the source of all of my pain".

A monologue came naturally out of his lips, like an Oracle inspired by the gods. One word after the other, like a constant stream of thoughts.  
Many more were the things that Satanick wanted to say, many the feelings that he couldn't express clearly. Flashbacks of Victor's last moments of life flashed in his mind, in a never ending sequence, like in a video tape. There weren't enough words to express the way his chest was burning, nor gestures that would have calmed him down.

Victor's last and tired smile;  
That was the image hunting him in every moment of his life since the day of his death and that now seemed to be glued on his pupils, like a freeze frame. 

He thought he was strong enough to keep on living; he thought he had enough pride to not let it throw him down too much; he thought he was better than that. However, when Victor's world was destroyed, all of his force left Satanick's body.

He fell for the false security hubris always brings. 

"I loved you";  
An inaudible whisper, that rumbled in all the room. The silence was too unbearable, exactly like his thoughts were too insufferable. His lips and his voice moved on their own, too tired to hide behind lies, too tired to suffer in silence.

"No, that's not right...I still love you. I am madly in love with you Victor. Today, tomorrow, forever I will keep you in my heart. My feelings for you will never change, you are too special for me".

Satanick fell on his knees with a loud bump.  
Once again some choked hiccups erupted from his mouth, making his whole body shake. He was the personification of desperation itself, unable to make himself feel better.

"And yet, no matter how much I love you, I still wasn't able to save you, exactly like I couldn't save the world you lived in". 

For all the time he looked at Victor's pale and emotionless face. It was impossible to understand what he was thinking, so uninterested he looked. On Satanick's widened eyes it could be seen a good amount of anxiety, which was eating him from the inside, gripping at his stomach and making it writhe painfully. 

"You must be thinking that I'm very pathetic right now, I can't blame you";

Another bitter and sarcastic laugh followed his words: once again he was turned down, even by Victor's motionless ghost.  
His lips were trembling, so much that he had to bite them until he could taste of his own blood. He didn't know what to do or what to say; after his explosion of emotions, he could feel only numbness and emptiness.

That's when a soft sigh resonated mixed with the sound of the heavy breathing of Satanick, bouncing on the walls and slowly dissipating itself on the air. 

"As always you are too hard on yourself", finally Victor said, breaking the deep and contemplative silence he fell in. The unreadable expression he had on his face turned in a softer one. His voice sounded like a gust of wind, disembodied and breathy.

At that Satanick only opened his mouth several times, feeling the need to say something but not finding the words: he looked exactly like a fish out of water. His hands, which were heavily resting on his sides, began to twitch, as if remembering that there was still life in them. 

"This sad look doesn't fit you that much", Victor said while peering at Satanick's still astonished face, with raised eyebrows and a very strange look in the eyes; at that moment, he looked like a feline leisurely analysing his surroundings. 

"I care enough for you to wish to see you happy. Surely the feelings you have for me are very different from the ones I have for you, but Satanick".

He made sure to mark his every word, feeling the need to explain himself as best as he could; 

"You made my last days less painful and lonely than I predicted. I will forever be grateful for that".

His voice was soft and his words sounded like a whisper. To Satanick's ears they sounded like a melody, even better than the one still playing in the background, accompanying their conversation. 

"Victor...", Satanick was only able to mutter, still uncertain if what he was living was real or not. Did the many days locked in his room made him fully lose his mind? That was the only thing he could think of, too scared to lower his guard down and be hurted again. Not able to keep looking at the man in front of him, the devil shifted his gaze, glancing around in different directions of the room. He bit his lips to refrain them from quivering excessively, ending up bruising them even more.  
Noticing all of that, Victor let out another sigh. 

"It's weird seeing you so dejected. I have always had an hard time understanding what went through your mind; after all, you were always so unpredictable and unique, maybe too extravagant and egocentric".

"I call them qualities", Satanick tried to joke, chuckling weakly at his own words. Images of their time spent togheter flashed in front of his eyes, making him dissociate once again from reality, fully immersing himself in his memories: he could almost breath the fresh air of Victor's world, which was always able to help him relax and forget about the heaviness of his everyday life. 

Victor simply stared at Satanick, letting him enjoy what was the first moment of tranquillity in many bleak days. He observed his pale face, his unfocused eyes, his red and rainy nose, noticing how he looked severely thin and tired, like a sick man. The ghostly man's lips pressed against each other, drawing a thin line, in an unreadable grimance. 

Probably feeling a pair of eyes on him, Satanick snapped out of his daydream, getting hit once again by his harsh reality: the happy times were gone, leaving room for only despair. The corners of his lips curved once again downwards, while he gazed at Victor like a lost puppy, confused about his feelings and befuddled by his thoughts. 

That's when the two man locked gazes, talking throught them: at that moment any words seemed to be too incorrect, too unsuitable, too excessive. So they let their eyes speak for themselves, expressing so many deep emotions that an entire encyclopedia wouldn't have been enough to explain them. Satanick could feel himself getting lost in Victor's grayish eyes, willingly drowning in that dark sea like an enamoured fisherman would do to stay with his mermaid. Inside of him there was an hurricane of emotions, devastating his mind and overthrowing the last bit of reasoning left in him.

Their eyes, each ones hypnotized by the others, have been locked for just a moment, but to them, especially to Satanick, it felt like an eternity, one spent in the most pleasant way: embraced by the deep and meaningful gaze of his dear friend.

Satanick was still kneeling down, not strong and stable enough to get on his feet and face directly Victor. He felt the strong need to throw his arms around the other man, breathe in his comforting and usual smell, and let the warmth of their bodies became one. He felt like enchanted by an illusion made up by his own mind, which was encouraging him to believe that all the pain he was feeling and all the terrible events that turned his daily life upside down were only a long and frightening nightmare. Not anymore ruler of his own body, his hand reached up towards the chest of the other man, anticipating already the scratchy and real material of his clothes, throught which he could feel Victor's usually warm body, in whose veins flowed passion and dauntlessness. On his eyes there was a new light, one that seemed to scream a new hope, emerging from the opacity of his not so vibrant purple.

However, as soon as he processed the foolishness of his thoughts, his hand stopped in mid air, and the hopeful smile forming on his face dissipated like smoke.

Victor observed all the movements and the changes of expression on Satanick's face. He never once judged badly his disrupted friend, letting him slowly process what was happening. In a certain sense, and ironically enough, he felt like a dad taking care of his son, guiding him through the wonders of life.  
He stood there still, not moving even in the slightest: he looked like frozen in time. The only small movement he did was to let a soft and knowing expression adorn his face: it was like he was able to dissect Satanick's soul, understanding and acknowledging his feelings and inexpressible emotions. In his eyes it could be seen a strange and twinkling light, one that was a mix of gentleness and clemency. He looked like he was emphasizing with the poor devil, making the latter's heart ache with melancholy and overwhelming longing, one too suffocating.  
It was in that moment that Satanick realized once again that, no matter how much time will pass, no matter how many people he will meet, no matter how many other《Victor》there were around the many worlds, there is always going to be only one Victor to him; after all, no one will ever have his same calmness, his same intelligence, his same audacity, his same melancholy: those were the things that made Victor Flankenstein so special to Satanick. 

A choked《Victor》left Satanick's mouth, before tears began to fall once again from his still red eyes. He cried aloud like a newborn baby, letting his body be shook violently by his hiccups. Not being able anymore to bear the sight of the eyes of the man he so much yearned for, the usually majestic and fascinating Lord Devil was now folded on himself, facing the ground, already wet because of his tears and shaky breaths. 

He wondered when would have Fate stopped playing with his emotions; he wondered when numbness would have overcome him; he wondered when he would have stopped hurting. 

He hated that;  
He hated how weak he looked and how his mind was pounding and his eyes burning. He hated how much chapped his lips were and how much stuffy his nose was. But most of all, he hated himself: to his eyes he was just a pathetic and emotional man, one that was so foolish that only deserved to suffer. Maybe Fumus was right: that dejected and depressed look suited him better.  
He was slowly falling into a dangerous vortex of emotions.

"Satanick", suddenly Victor said, angrier than before but even more worried than before. 

"Snap out of it. I left you in charge of taking care of Crea because you are composed enough. I have faith in you so don't go and waste your potential and sanity like that".

Almost like a magical command, Satanick stopped crying. His face was still wet with tears and his body was shaking violently, but from his wet eyes no more tears were falling. Oh how much he loved hearing Victor's voice. 

"In more than one occasion, you demonstrated your value: you are a good devil". The ghostly man smiled a bit to himself, while gazing at his left: he surely was remembering a particular event, one that inspired warmth and happiness. 

"Still, don't let it get to your head: you are already narcissistic enough", he said with a small chuckle, one that sounded like pure poetry to Satanick. 

"I remember that until the end you were holding my hand";  
For the first time in that peculiar evening, Victor moved one of his hands, bringing it near his face and analysing it: it looked even more disembodied, like a beam of light. A pensive look passed through his face for a split second, as if realizing something. If Satanick wasn't still facing the ground, he would have probably caught it and questioned it.

However, Victor kept on talking, like nothing ever happened, exactly like Satanick kept on looking at his own hands, not able to find the force and look up. 

"Thank you, I will never forget you and our friendship";  
His words sounded strangely full of longing, kind of bittersweet. His face contorted in an apologetic grimace. 

That's when a strange silence fell, one that sounded emptier than usual.  
Finally Satanick found the courage to look up, a big smile adorning his features. He was already expecting to be welcomed again by the gentle look on Victor's face; however, there wasn't anyone. 

"Victor?", he asked unsure of what he was seeing. The room was once again empty, if not for Satanick sitting near a corner of it. Feeling more than simply confused, he frowned his eyebrows and analyzed every small detail of the furnishings, hoping to find again the faint aura surrounding Victor.  
His thoughts were a big mess, jumping from one to another in just a few milliseconds. His heart was racing and complicated emotions made the devil froze on the spot. 

Was everything an illusion? Were all the things said just a trick of his tired mind? Was the soft look on Victor's eyes just something that Satanick would have liked to see but didn't get the chance to? He didn't know. 

"Wait Victor", he shouted at the dark, as if someone could hear him. He couldn't accept it, he didn't want to accept it, not when he saw the light at the end of the tunnel of despair he was stuck in. 

A 《Goodbye》never told was left hanging on the air, weighing down on Satanick's tired and tense figure. He tried once again calling the name of the one he loved but no answer came. 

That's when he convinced himself that everything that happened just a few minutes before was just an illusion.

Like love itself.

Like life itself.

Only pain was real. 

And like that, the devil was finally overcome by the numbness he wished for before, letting the darkness hide the silent tears spilling on his red cheeks and the melody cover all of his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Ancient Greek and it means《Illusion》.


End file.
